The Letter (36 page)

‘You never read the letter did you? I mean, it was still sealed when I found it.’

Dr Skinner shrugged again.

‘I wonder if it would have made any difference if you had.’

‘I doubt it.’

Tina thought about all the lives that had been ruined because of one selfish act. Billy was sent off to war without any hope, Chrissie had been deprived of her home and her mother’s love and forced to give up her child. She remembered all the anguish and guilt William had felt as he searched for his birth mother. And Jackie, who had waited patiently for the woman he adored to finally realise what she had been looking for was right there all the time.

‘Don’t you think Chrissie had a right to see that letter?’

‘Don’t you think I had a right to protect my daughter?’

Tina ignored his question. ‘You say you have no family. Don’t you ever think about Chrissie and her baby? Don’t you wonder what became of them?’

Dr Skinner cast his eyes downwards. ‘I didn’t think about them for many years. After my wife died I just threw myself into my work. It was just mortifying for a man in my position to have such a wayward daughter. As the years passed, I just forced myself to forget about her and the child.’

Tina stared defiantly at the old man’s craggy features.

‘I read the letter, Dr Skinner. I know it wasn’t meant for me, but I had to. I know where Chrissie lives and I know where your grandson lives too. I gave her the letter she should have read all those years ago. She couldn’t understand why Billy had deserted her and we couldn’t understand why Billy never posted his letter. Well, now we know, don’t we? They could have been a family, they
should
have been a family, but your callous interference denied them that.’

If Dr Skinner was surprised by this news he did not show it. He merely shrugged. ‘Like I said before, it was for her own good.’

‘Her own good? You have no idea of the heartache you have caused, have you? Your daughter despises you, Dr Skinner. You ruined the best years of her life, but thankfully, after reading Billy’s letter she has found peace. She has been reunited with her son and has finally found happiness despite your best efforts to deny her that.’

Dr Skinner took out his old handkerchief again and wiped his eyes. ‘You weren’t there, young lady. You have no idea what you are talking about. You are meddling in things you don’t understand.’

Tina thought about how he had sent Chrissie away in disgrace and the suffering she had endured in the convent. She had actually felt a physical pain when she learned the story of how William had been taken from her when he was only three years old, for she knew only too well the sheer heartache of losing a child. She thought about William and his search for his birth mother which had finally led to him feeling a sense of belonging that had eluded him for most of his life. She thought of Jackie, that kind gentle man who had waited with incredible tolerance for Chrissie to realise that she was capable of loving again. And she thought of Billy. A fine young man who had seen the error of his ways and was willing to stand by the girl he loved and forge a stable family home for them all. Billy, who was killed in action and never knew that he had fathered such a wonderful boy as William. It could all have been so different if the man sitting in front of her had done the right thing and given the letter to his daughter.

Tina stood up and took a deep breath.

‘Dr Skinner, in all my life I have never come across a more vindictive man than you, and believe me, I know a bit about malicious bullies. Billy wrote that letter from the heart and it deserved to be read, but your self-centred actions altered the lives of so many people, including your own.’

Dr Skinner tried to clear his throat, but old age had made his voice croaky. He cast his hooded eyes downwards and whispered quietly.

‘How is she?’

‘Chrissie? Oh, you care now, do you?’

‘I’ve
always
cared. That is why I did what I did.’

He stood up to leave and sent his walking stick crashing to the floor. Tina bent down to retrieve it and placed it in his gnarled hand.

He doffed his cap to her. ‘She was my daughter and in spite of what you might think, I did love her.’

Tina held the door open for him. ‘Goodbye, Dr Skinner.’

She watched him shuffle off and then closed the door. She picked up her handbag and brought out William’s latest letter. She must have read it a hundred times already and the thin blue airmail paper was already worn, but the final paragraph always brought a huge smile to her face.

I have never been more in love with anybody in my life. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my days without you. I will never love anyone like I love you. Please, Tina, come over to America and be my wife.

Tina half-laughed, half-cried as she clutched the letter to her heart.

Long ago, a young man on the threshold of the rest of his life wrote a similar letter to his sweetheart. Had he not done so, then she wouldn’t be standing here now looking forward to a future with the man she loved.

She looked up towards the ceiling and the tears pooled in her eyes.

‘Thanks, Billy,’ she whispered.

Epilogue – Present Day

Vermont, USA

They were seated on the front porch swing now, overlooking the herb garden. The pungent scent of lavender wafted over on the warm breeze and she took a sip of her iced tea. Every time she tasted it she smiled to herself. She never would have imagined a down to earth girl from the North of England drinking cold tea, without milk or sugar, but with a slice of lemon, of all things!

‘That’s a sad story, Grandma.’ The little girl noisily slurped the last of the homemade lemonade through a straw and rested the empty glass between her knees. Ava’s little legs were too short to reach the floor so she asked her Grandmother to make the swing ‘go’. She immediately obliged and gently rocked the swing back and forth. Ava was right, it was a sad story, but Tina had long consoled herself with the fact that it had a happy ending. After all, if Billy
had
posted his letter she never would have met William. She had come to terms years ago with the fact that Chrissie’s loss was her gain. She glanced over at her husband now and felt the usual rush of affection for him that even after all these years made her heart pound and her cheeks flush. He caught her looking across at him, took his secateurs and snipped off a large, pink rose. He inhaled its intoxicating scent for a second before he held it up in her direction. She couldn’t hear his words from across the lawn, but there was no doubt about what he said.

I love you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My sincere thanks to friends and family who have spurred me on all the way to the end and in particular to those who read early drafts and imparted their wisdom, knowledge and expertise in order to help me make the book the best it can be. They are: my husband, Robert Hughes, my daughter, Ellen Hughes, my mum, Audrey Watkin and friends Yvonne Lyng, Kate Lowe, Grace Higgins and Helen Williams. Also special thanks to my editor, Tony Fyler at Jefferson Franklin for his insightful comments, professionalism and encouragement.

Finally, whilst St. Bridget’s Convent is completely fictional, institutions such as this did exist and I would like to pay tribute to all those girls who suffered at the hands of such a cruel and heartless system.

K.H.